69 Hues of Disney 2: Simba from The Lion King bangs his way out of the
by BusterManwomb
Summary: In a grim dark world where things that look like babies that look like cthulu's left nut have sex lives to rival a male guinea pig in a female guinea pig enclosure, and tacquitos are fucking impossible to get ahold of, one Lion must fuck his way out of a computer.
1. It begins

About the author:

Buster B Manwomb was born to a pair of Wendy's cashiers who abandoned them in the same grease depository in which they was conceived. They was found and raised by wolves in the mountains of Florida, where they grew up learning to love the written word, spending many hours reading literature abandoned by the highway. Their favorite works, the second half of the June 1999 issue of TV digest, and the VHS case for 'Triple Nanny Creampie 3: Rise of the Babushka' influence their writing to this day. They currently reside in a Newfoundland dumpster, writing new and exciting literature on their Blackberry Playbook.

If you do not have the time to roam the maritimes with an aromatic bowl of deli meats in search of them, you can follow Buster Manwomb on Twitter at BusterManwomb.

Chapter 1: wet percussive anal romance

Simba made The Baby from Eraserhead cum like twenty times. It was love at first sight when they started grinding each other on the dance floor. Only when they were told that it was not a dancefloor but a Chuck E Cheese ball pit, and what they thought was House music was actually a large group of children crying very loudly, did they decided that place was too 'scene' and that they should find someplace to do some rump-bumping in quiet.

They went back to The Baby from Eraserhead's studio apartment in a lusty strut, engaging in minutes of the juiciest visceral butthole invasion and nipple chewing that the greater Baltimore Metropolitan Area would ever confuse for an earthquake.

Once the whole building had flooded with what many thought was vanilla pudding mixed with beef liver pate, Simba fell back onto the bed, dry heaving. The Baby from Eraserhead too was satisfied, and was smoking beside him. "That was fucking lit!" Simba sighed with spent arousal, spooning up to The Baby from Eraserhead.

With postpartum sensuality, The Baby from Eraserhead weeped blood.

Simba laughed and kissed The Baby from Eraserhead's tiddy. "I'm glad you liked it too! But boy and I spent! Do you want any food?"

The Baby from Eraserhead wailed like an elderly Mormon woman reading her adult grandson's comments on an incel subreddit.

"Taquitos would hit the spot!" Simba said, smacking The Baby from Eraserhead's thicc dad thighs as he got up from the bed. "I know a great place nearby! They don't do Skip the Dishes but they're tastier than all hell!" Simba clothed himself, struggling to stuff his still-semi-erect donk into his pants. "You keep your pants off! I am not done with your dick!"

The Baby from Eraserhead began to spew noxious, ever-expanding grey goo, sure to consume everything you have ever loved and/or would prefer not to be consumed like cthulu's midnight snack.

"I WILL remember the hot sauce!" Simba Said with the tenacity of denzel washington from the great debaters if he was high on blow.

What Simba thought was the place that mad the best taquitos in the city was actually the only place that would willingly sell taquitos to lions since the owner was kind of blind. Imagine if Jeffrey Dahmer grew a porn stache and turned into a bodega and you would have some idea how sketchy this place was. The taquitos were cooked on a hot dog roller that looked like it hadn't been cleaned since before the Simpsons existed. On the plus side, there was usually no line.

There was a line.

Simba was fucking livid, and decided that the best way to get his taquitos before his stiffy deflated was to weild it like a bat designed by david kronenburg and beat all the people in front of him until nobody else was conscious.

"What the FUCK" Said the third person he attacked with his penis.

Simba was confused, and attacked again.

"Stop that." The person he was trying to cock-bludgeon retorted.

This made no sense. Usually after one or two hearty bops to the noggin with his penis, anybody's top three favourite brain lobes would be squeezed out their tear duct.

"Who da fuck are you?" Simba interrogated, brandishing his penis with a dwindling sense of menace.

The person slowly turned around. It was the Master Control Program. Odd how Simba never noticed that he was smashing his cock-bat against a massive wall of light.

"Are you trying to pick a fight with me?" The MCP Bellowed menacingly.

"What if I am, bruh?" Simba retorted, fruitlessly attacking the MCP with his fleshy trouser baton.

"I'd like to go against you and see what you're made of."

"Come at me bruh! I'll fucking school you!" Simba threatened, ignoring the fact that he was completely in the wrong.

Thanks to the drama, Simba never noticed the fucking massive laser that was lining up behind him, and loudly charging until it blasted him right outta this world.

Chapter 2: Fucking lasers, man.

"Fuck in a wat?" demanded a viscerally confused Simba as he realized he was wearing what looked like a road map of Boston made from glowsticks, and was sitting in a room that looked like if a Linux user made a laser tag arena.

"You there!" Said a guard that looked like a copyright-safe version of a storm trooper. "You have been sent to the grid by master control program. You must sex yourself to death!"

"This looks like Reboot."

This triggered Sark, who was about to kill Simba when he heard a contextually convenient voice of the Master Control saying 'I want him in the games until he dies playing. And record it too. Then put it in the 'slightly questionable porn' file."

"Fucker!" Sark said.

Simba looked up. A man was yelling at him from a spaceship like a mile away.

"Is he saying something?" Simba asked.

"He's telling you not to lose your identity disc." The not-stormtrooper said.

"What do I do with it?" Simba asked.

"You throw it at people."

"That makes sense. How do I get out of here?" Simba asked.

"You must fuck your way out."

"Oh, so it's like Chuck E. Cheese." Simba said.

"…What?" The not-stromprooper asked, slightly concerned.

"Imagine if you got molested by Teddy Ruxpin every time you at a pizza or made an Undertale reference. Now imagine trying to do that instead of paying for a Five Night's at Freddy's game."

Not-Stormtrooper did not move.

"That was my Vietnam."

Not-Stormtrooper wasn't moving because he had committed suicide.

"Classic." Simba stretched triumphantly. The man on the spaceship was still monologuing inaudibly.

"WHO THE FUCK DO I FUCK FIRST YOU FUCK!" Simba yelled. "I AM DOWN TO A CHUB AND NEED A WARMUP!"

Something that looked like L'arc de triomphe as interpreted by Starfox on the Super Nintendo flew down and turned into a door. Because computers or something.

From the portal hissed a thick, hulking figure that lumbered towards Simba, shrouded in dramatic, convenient darkness.

"Hyuk." The figure hyukked.

Chapter 3: Politics

"Well gawrsh." A ripplingly curvaceous Goofy emerged from the shadow. "Normally the folks that piss off the MCP don't look so tiny."

"I'm not afraid of you." Simba stood his ground. "I literally EAT bigger people than you for breakfast!"

"Wanna bet?"

"Goofy thrust into the air, covering the distance between them while striking a midair pose so majestic that his clothes flew off like the gay guy in One Punch Man, only here you could see his schlong, worthy of the depravity of an nsfw Second Life world or the author's average fever dream. And boy was it a schlong."

"Hyuh… why are you narrating?" Goofy asked.

"I like to hype myself up." Simba said.

Stop it. That's my job.

"Fine! Christ…" Simba grumbled mildly

He wasn't wrong through. It was an extraordinary peen.

"Is it not majestic?" Goofy gestured to it.

Goofy's penis looked like if a Lance Armstrong action figure was filled with three times more corn syrup than it needed and was then lubricated with black shoe polish, making it look unnaturally structured and slightly racist.

"I have named it Mike Pence!" Goofy declared.

"That's disgusting." Said the Lion who was giving the Baby from Eraserhead a dirty trombone not a half an hour earlier without a hint of irony. "I honestly think I'd have preferred that red rocket business dogs usually have."

"If ya think this is bad…" Goofy teased. "You should look at Mickey's donk! It looks like a crashed greyhound bus!"

"I really don't like where this is going." Simba said.

"He called it #HumboIdtSchIong!" Goofy declared

"Christ almighty!" Simba cringed. "What the fuck is wrong with him?"

"Well, he has a lot of broken bones now." Goofy said. "The moment he said it out loud he got lynched by a pack of Canadians. Disney's already trying to remake Cool Runnings as an apology. Didn't go to well. They cast Scarlet Johansson as the lead, a-hyuk!"

Tired of all this shit, Simba lunged at Goofy's throat: his kronenburg bat dick was too limp at the moment to use.

"I can only die if I cum!" Goofy said, pushing Simba back whith his exuberant Big Dick Energy. "And good luck! I haven't been able to cum since 9/11!"

"Oh I'm sorry." Simba said, "Trauma?"

"Naw, it's just that nothing can compare. Sad hyuk." Goofy said, reminiscing.

Firmly done with this shit, Simba lunged at Mike Pence, rubbing along his polished black mass until he began to expand, veins beginning to bulge haphazardly. Simba's sharp claws digging into Mike Pence's stretchy, soft skin made Goofy shiver."

"That's all right." Goofy said. "But it's no jet fuel melting steel beams…"

Simba used his to gnaw on Mike Pence's pudgy girth, earning an occasional shudder and moan and hyuk from Goofy's ecstatic sweaty face. A tiny bit of precum leaked out of Mike Pence's head.

"Oh yawrsh. Fuck me up like America's international relations in the last year daddy!" Goody moaned. He was totally into all the dirty stuff Simba was doing to Mike Pence. He stuck a light cycle rod up Goofy's asshole while working Mike Pence's head, though he didn't start to get more of a reaction until he stuck Goofy's bike stick up Mike Pence's vestigial asshole and start straight up punching Mike Pence in the face.

"Awwww Yursh!" Goofy screamed. "Tell me you have nail clippers and that you're taking over the plane!"

Simba took the whole of Mike Pence in his mouth, feeling with throat throb with every lapping gulp.

"Mike Pence is gonna be able to tell if I'm smuggling cocaine when I'm done with you!" Simba yelled inexplicably clearly despite having Mike Pence giving him rapid fire oral prostate exams. Grabbing Mike Pence's Balls (Or maybe they were Goofy's. It's kind of a thing) Simba began to beat them like they told him that he phoned it in in Lion King 1 ½.

"This is as close as I've ever gotten!" Goofy moaned. " Though Flight MH370 was closer before it ghosted me!

"You want a disaster that destroyed the lives of thousands, Motherfucker?" Simba grumbled. He pulled Mike Pence's gleaming puffy mass from mouth. "The Hannah Montana Movie came out AFTER 9/11!"

It was like someone told Alex Jones that frogs have always been gay. Goofy swelled into a purple mass of misplaced energy and exploded out of Mike Pence hard until he looked like the lovechild of a wookie and a bearskin rug.

Sexually satisfied, Goofy begun to slither into the darkness. "Gawrsh." He sighed.

"Can I go now?" Simba said. "I want some fothermucking tacquitos."

"Nein. Your journey has only begun." Goffy said. "You must fuck your way through MCP's henchmen to the ultimate challenge."

"Shitfuck." Simba said. "How to I"

The polygonal spaceship turned into a portal again. Simba stepped through it and found himself in an arena the size of Blood Gulch. A tall figure stood at the far end.

"Hey!" Simba called. "Am I gonna have to fuck you too or is there a crack in the wall I can escape through?"

The unrecognizable figure lumbered closer, breathing heavily.

"You're gonna need a lot more propane to get out of this situation I'll tell you hwat."

Tune in Next Time for 69 Hues of Disney 2, part 2: advent of the unicocktopi.


	2. Ready Player Propane

About the author:

Buster B. Manwomb lives by the immortal saying "You can't get banished to the shadow realm if you're banished from the shadow realm." When he isn't writing literature or trying to get said literature adapted to Kindgom Hearts rhythm game spinoffs, he is fulfilling his dreams of making every McDonald's washroom in New Brunswick vomit inducing, and soliciting sex from the Archbishop of Canterbury. Often simultaneously.

69 Hues of Disney 2: Part II

Simba stood perplexed at the man before him. "Are you Hank Hill?"

"I sure am!" Hank Hill said.

"Am I going to have to fuck you to get out of here?" Simba groaned.

"Not just me, I'll tell you hwat!" Hank Hill said, leaping into the air. Striking a magnificent pose, his clothes exploded off of him. Silhouetted by the explosion, he begun his magical girl transformation, finishing it as he landed on the ground. The oversized schoolgirl outfit was clearly not designed in consideration of testicles.

"I have become sailor propane!" Hank Hill yelled.

"And I have become sailor kerosene!" Dale Gribb yelled, leaping down from the sky in what looked like a sailor moon costume if sailor moon was a crack whore.

"I'm sailer petroleum! I'm all sparkly and the like." Bill said, fluttering from the sky in what looked like a Mary Poppins outfit designed for a playboy photoshoot.

"Dang lookit dat darn damn costume man. I cin con don dorn git them sparkles man, jus' can ban der' be sum sor' more sum stuff, man, dang diesel man." Boomhauer… 'said'.

"And I'm sailor butane!" Joseph said, landing on his face, but trying the play it off cool.

"Why is there a kid here?" Simba asked.

"Because Butane is the bastard gas!" Hank Hill explained.

"Is he the lady of the lake in disguise, or some other contrived excuse to make it less weird?" Simba asked.

"Weren't you playing penis footsies with the baby from Eraserhead?" Hank Hill asked omnisciently.

"Yes, and I probably will again as soon as I find some god dman taqcuitos!" Simba retorted. "But the Baby from Eraserhead is more Lovecraftian Horror than human, which makes it less weird!" Simba explained. "This is where I draw the line!"

"You know what? Fair enough." Hank Hill said, pulling out a gun from his thong and shooting Joseph in the face.

"What the hell, Hank!" Dale groaned with the indignation of a man who had chocolate milk poured onto his mashed potatoes.

"He wasn't yours. Now Simba!" Hank Hill returned to the task at hand. "Choose your first penis obstacle!"

"Sure. Okay. Dale. You first. Youre probably pretty bummed about your wife's kid getting shot."

"Okay… wait what?" Dale said sensually as he dutifully unleashed his genitals.

His penis looked like an autobot struggling to assemble ikea furniture, if-

"Okay, pause!" Simba yelled. "Time the fuck out! Why the fuck isn't there a single normal dingus in the whole fucking world?"

Little did he know that penises in the Manwombverse work the same way people do in My Hero Academia: they all have their own little quirks, and the only one that doesn't is probably going to get All Might's Attention.

Simba was about to suck it, lamenting the fact that it would probably do to his mouth what Fant4stic would have done to Michael B Jordan's career if Creed didn't come out only months after, when he noticed something odd about the penis.

Optimus Prime (the shaft) was trying to put together a Loofwamploorftwen, more affectionately reffered to as a 'bondage walrus' for it's distinctive cusion shape. Optimus Prime's main problem was that he was connecting the pedals to the wrong side of the chassis.

Simba twisted the head, tightening his grip rhythmically in a way that Optimus Prime turned the chassis around and properly assembled the Loofwamploorftwen, revealing the urethra and exploding with a torrent of hot sticky baby syrup so torrential that dale deflated into nothingness, leaving behind only a cigarette and his shades.

"Okay then." Simba said, moving on to Boomhauer. "You! Weird-talk-man. You're next."

Boomhauer procured his penis. It looked appealingly normal.

"All right then, time to get this over with." Simba said, taking Boomhauers boomstick into his mouth. He started by knowing on the head. It started to harden. Simba prepared to try stroking it.

"THEY'RE SO DECADENT AND MOIST!" The penis screamed.

"What the fuck!" Simba screamed.

"Dang old man gon git gan de damn tan carn cam grebdodangol tha then ther old prison man ain't no pork for me man." Boomhauer said, explaining that when his penis is titillated, it makes sounds like a traumatized Vietnam War veteran trying to sell you brownies while being violated by an entire hot air balloon..

Simba shrugged and returned to sucking the penis, starting slow but slowly accelerating. He wanted to see where this goes.

"Please buy my brow-owwwwwwwww holy fucking shit-nies! Their so MOIST and soft! FRESH from the OVEN! No! Please don't pull on the torch again! It takes me baaaaaack…. Hey kids, want to see an orange cloud?!"

Simba gnawed on the penis more aggressively.

"NO!" The penis regained its focus. "I am not ABOUT that any more! I just want to sell thse delicious brownies! They're made from real chocolate and FUCK HER IN THE ASS WITH THE NAPALM! THAT'LL MAKE THE YELLA DEVIL TALK!"

Simba worked the penis harder.

"My brownies are so GOOD! I'll give you a two for on- onononowie! A sale!"

Simba punched the penis in the face.

"So what do they have for fast food in Saigon? KFD?"

Simba worked the shaft, punched it again, and tugged the nutsack. Nothing seemed to affect the penis' middling rigidity.

"OhGOD WHY won't you buy them!" Penis cried. "OW! Goddammit, absolve me daddy!"

Simba folded Boomhauer's ballsack into a origami noodle bowl and fed it to the ghost of a vengeful Vietnamese child.

That did it. The penis ejaculated a tray of fresh brownies before curling itself up into a bowman knot and jogging into the shadows.

You see, Your Grace? This is what it would be like if you would answer my fucking calls when I'm in my regular clothes. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find edible altar boy outfits in my size? I thought if I made a NOrMAL one you wouldn't tear at it but NOOOOOOO.

Anyway

Boomhauers eyes turned inside out. His mouth opened far wider than is logistically viable.

" パパ。あなたはあなたの刑務所である私の陰茎から解放されました。今夜、私は生の豚肉から作られた売春婦を消化することなく売春宿に行くかもしれません。ありがとうございました。"

(Papa. Anata wa anata no keimushodearu watashi no inkei kara kaihō sa remashita. Kon'ya, watashi wa nama no butaniku kara tsukura reta baishunpu o shōka suru koto naku baishun yado ni iku kamo shiremasen. Arigatōgozaimashita.)" Oozed from Boomhauers lips as he melted into the floor.

"Now you!" Simba pointed to Hank Hill, actively repressing the memories of the events that had transpired.

"Good luck!" Hank Hill laughed maniacally af. Tugging aside his sailor thong. His penis was the shape of a penis, but the size of a commodore 64 made of Silly Putty. "My urethra is tight as Bobby claims his mixtape to be! You will NEVER get me to cum!"

Simba, who has watched the show, lifted up a great dane puppy. "Want a new puppy?"

Hank Hill's penis opened wide, mountains of petrified ejaculate sloughed out of the ever widening urethra, not unlike the exact opposite of a black hole used as a sex toy by a great cosmic being, or the Kessel Run scene of Solo played in reverse if the space monster was made of particle rock.

"I'll let him sort that out." Simba said, turning to bill. "You! What the fuck is your dick's deal?"

"Mine's just fine." Bill said. "Ain't nothing weird about it."

And that moment, All Might appeared out of nowhere, preparing to feed Bill His hair in one hand, and punching Simba with the other. "You will never take this sweet plain dick away from me!" All Might shouted. "ARDEN SMAAAAASH!"

The force of the punch sent Simba flying into Hank Hill's urethra, which had grown to the point that it looked like the original sarlacc pit rolling down a hillside. "I just wanted from fucking tacquitooooooooooos!" Simba yeeled as he fell.

Tune in next time for 69 Hues of Disney 2 part 2 part 2: Fist of the North Starlacc Pit!


	3. Fist of the North Starlacc Pit

About the Author:

Voted 'Cambodia's Most Fuckable Orphan' by the Woody Allen Pre-memorial Guild of Orphan Fuckers (Dartmouth Chapter), Buster Manwomb worked in a Nunavut strip club under the name 'Fraulein Whooping Cough' until the Zumba Mafia caught up.

69 Hues of Disney: part 2: part 2: Fist of the North Starlacc Pit

Simba never expected that what he expected to be a quick trip to get some god damn tacquitos would have ever resulted in him getting ass fucked by an Ikea in Hank Hill's urethra.

And yet that was exactly how his day was going. Trapped in the seemingly unending cavern that was Hank Hill's newly relaxed urethra, though fortunately the semen seemed to have been drained, so he was simply left to wander the moist plains uninterrupted.

Or so he thought.

The Ikea had snuck up behind Simba with the stealthy vigour of a horny jackrabbit that was also a ninja. It leapt on Simba from behind and, seemingly unfamiliar with the gentler intricacies of ass fucking, seemed to be content with having it's dick bounce around Simba's Eye of Sauron like a wrinkled trampoline.

"What the fuck?" Simba wondered as he batted off the Ikea store gracelessly trying to mount him. The ikea meowed in response.

"What the fuck is an Ikea doing here." Simba wondered aloud, bunting the eager store off of his asshole.

"We are everywhere." The Ikea store responded in a deep, sensual voice not unlike that of Terry Crews after three cigarettes. "We are perfect agents for the three."

"The three what?" Simba asked, right fucking tired of this cryptic ass shit.

"The first comes." Ikea muttered.

Out of the shadows came Ken from Fist of the North Star, his sweaty beefcakiness glistening in the light of the nearby neon lines that come with being in a uretha occupying the realm of Tron. He was still wearing shoulder pads, of course.

"I am KEN!" Ken said truthfully. "You must make me come to submission before you may pass!"

"Sure, whatever." Simba said, whipping out his dick. "Come at me bro!"

"Ah ha." Ken gloated japanesely. "If only for you if it would be so easy!"

Simba charged his thrust attack in the time that Ken took to gloat. His penish was thrust in a formidable. It bounced of Ken with nary a dip into the many crevices between Ken's unrelentingly bulbous muscles.

"My turn is now!" Ken charged up his penis. It looked like a garter snake that has seen terrible things. "Hokuto Dicking!"

Ken poked Simba in three random spots, opening his butt for Ken's penis, which was so smooth and unburthensome that if Simba had farted at the moment of penetration, it would nary have grazed the walls.

"Holy shit you're thin!" simba said with exasperation. I didn't even feel that!"

"You are formidable!" Ken said. "It is time to use my final attack!"

"Is it putting on an inch thick condom?" Simba said. "Because I doubt I'll feel anything else."

Simba did not realize that Ken was already thrusting his slender peen into Simba's bum with the impressive speed of that new PC your insufferable workmate won't stop fucking talking about. Ken's penis made contact with any surface inside of Simba's colon about one percent of the time.

"…HAI-hai- HAI-hai- HAI-hai- HAI-hai- HAI-hai- HAI-hai-HAYIAAAA!" Ken leapt into the air, twirling and flipping over Simba until he stood in the exact same spot he stood before.

"That really didn't feel very impressive." Simba said.

"That is what you think." Ken pointed at Simba dramatically. "You are already pregnant."

Simba decided to fuck with him. "I know you are, but what am I?"

Somebody must have been high off of their tits when they wrote this, because that was the secret to Ken's destruction. He swelled up like one of his many victims as his Manwomb (which is in fact a canonical organ in the Manwombverse) swelled to the point where it exploded in a sticky mess.

Simba had never given any thought what his children would have looked like if Ken from Fist of the North Star was the mother, but he was sure that he could have never prepared himself for the sight of eleven-inch clones of Lion-o from thundercats scrambling into the darkness of Hank Hill's urethra, tearing apart shreds of their recently combusted mother for sustenance.

"I hate this so much." Simba said, jealous of his thundercat spawn for actually fucking getting something to eat. "What else do I need to fuck to get out of here?"

"Pop my cherry!" Someone who sounded like Tom Kenny, Voice of Spongebob and Starscream at some point said.

"The second Ken comes." Ikea said.

"…What?" Simba asked.

The voice of Tom Kenny materialized in front of him, as naked as spongebob in that 'exhausted spongebob' meme.

"How can I see a voice?" Simba asked.

"How did you reverse a pregnancy?" The voice of Tom Kenny retorted."

"Fair enough." Simba said, reinvigorating his dick. "Where do I stick it in you?"

Nihilistically uncaring, Simba stuck it into the first whole he saw, a kind of lubricated amorphous tear bordering a dark passage filled with secrets and the moanings of many trapped souls.

"The fuck is in that orifice?" Simba demanded.

"I am the given form of the prison of many nickelodeon watchers who sold their souls to make Korrasami canon!" The voice of Tom Kenny explained. "Go ahead and penetrate that soul chasm. It is quite….. moiiiist."

Disgusted, but curious, not unlike the Tim Hortons employee that saw me writing this, Simba directed his veiny sword of destiny into the strange hole.

It was surprisingly pleasant, much like sticking your dick into a salad bowl full of sautéed spinach and marshmallow spread, if you didn't have to worry about the impromptu wax job you were bound to get tugging it out. Simba had spent this entire ordeal at half-mast, but this brought his mast up to a solid sixty percent.

"This is surprisingly pleasant." Simba said as the Voice of Tom Kenny suddenly turned into a cherry and exploded around his dick. The Lion-o freak babies returned in a flash to feed on the wayward souls that were lamenting the fact that they couldn't settle for watching korrasami hentai.

"Did I really only have to take the voice of Tom Kenny's virginity?"

"That was a breather. The next challenge will be your greatest challenge yet." Ikea explained, eating popcorn with one hand and masturbating with the other.

 _Thump_

"That sounds big." Simba observed.

 _Thump_

A silhouette was becoming visible in the darkness. It was quite big.

 _Ghump_

The figure was carrying something.

Fhump

Two things: they looked like menorah-shaped samurai swords.

Phump

Made of dildos

Lhump

The sounds of mechanical limbs was audible. Was it a robot?

 _Trump_

It was Anne Frank.

"Your dick is the Jewish People. Your balls are their culture." Anne Frank said, although Simba was pretty sure it was actually the zombie-terminator thing from "Mortal Engines" in drag.

 _Lrump._

"Let me guess, you're pussy is nazi Germany?" Simba assumed.

"My pussy is a DEATH STAR!" Robo-Anne Frank gloated, disappointed with Simba guessing her line, and displeased with her own improvisation.

Simba was not sure if he had ever seen a vagina in the manwombverse. He wondered if it literally was a death star.

"You would be a fool to underestimate my vagine!" Robo-Anne Frank gloated, her bottom half of her body transforming into what looked like if someone made a death star trench out of wet tissue paper (complete with gun turrets).

Simba was already assuming he'd need to penetrate the xhaust port to make her blow up.

"NOW!" Robo-Anne Frank cackled maniacally. "Prepare to have your penis feel the persecution of a million toasted-"

At that moment, Thanos snapped his fingers, and Robo-Anne Frank turned to dust.

"How anticlimactic." Simba reflected deeply. He turned to the ikea. "What do I do now?"

"You have fucked the three." Ikea stated with sensual depth. "Your final challenge awaits. Get inside me."

Ikea's front doors opened.

Anxious to finish the final challenge, and maybe buy some fucking food to tide him over until he found some taqcuitos, Simba enthusiastically entered the Ikea.

Tune in next time for the final chapter: Amy Schumer and the Behelit Orgy!


	4. Chapter For: Somthing

About the author

Buster Manwomb is doing just fine, thanks for asking.

69 Hues of Disney 2 Part Whatever: Whatever I said the chapter was called last time.

Simba was inside an Ikea, inside Hank Hill's Urethra, inside the grid, inside a convenience store.

Most of the Ikea was dark except for a single table, at which sat a humanoid figure. Simba expected the figure to be Leonardo Dicaprio, and nine years ago that may have been the case, but no. Instead sitting at the table was universally tolerated comedian Amy Schumer.

She sat calmly at the table, idly twiddling her thumbs as Simba approached her.

"So…" Simba started, pulling out a second chair and sitting at the table. "What am I supposed to do here?"

"Wanna hear a joke?" Amy Schumer, star of Inside Amy Schumer asked.

"…Sure." Simba answered, expecting a penis shaped like something distinctly un-penislike to protrude from her mouth instead.

He was pleasantly surprised as only words came out of Amy Schumer's mouth.

"What is…. MY VAGINA!" Amy Schumer laughed.

Simba sat there as Amy Schumer continued to laughed, slapping the table and wheezing, falling out of her chair and pulling herself back in, only to fall out and repeat the process. It reminded Simba of the bit in Toy Story when Woody got buzz to look behind him, if Woody wasn't allowed to stop laughing.

"You get it? MY VAGINA!" Amy Schumer wheezed, only to fall out of her chair again and start laughing even harder.

"Cool." Simba stood up once it became clear that this wasn't going to stop anytime soon. "I'm out of here."

He went back to the front door, intending to leave, only to be unexpectedly stopped.

The penis was the size of a school bus. The head was the size and shape of a Volkswagen Beetle on its side. A vaguely proportional hand was stroking the penis, smooshing the head against the second set of doors, preventing Simba's exit.

Simba peered out of the scant bit of window that didn't have penis smooshed against it. It appeared that a hundred-foot-tall Louis CK had cornered the Ikea.

Simba sighed, turning back around. He supposed that he was being too hopeful thinking he could get out of this without having to make an "Inside Amy Schumer" joke.

"Drink?"

Simba heard the voice as soon as he stepped back inside. Bill Cosby was standing beside the door in a monkey suit, holding a tray of martini glasses filled with pills. His dick was out, flapping like a three-inch long eel super-glued to a brillo pad.

"…No thanks." Simba said, rushing back to the table.

It wasn't Amy Schumer at the table. Now it was Jerry Seinfeld.

"Hey." Jerry Seinfeld said.

"Okay, I'm consfused." Simba said.

"You need to make me laugh." Jerry Seinfeld explained.

"Ah!" Simba thinks he understood. Amy Schumer was ripping her sides at the mere mention of her vagina. Maybe he needed to make each comedian laugh with their own style of jokes. It seemed like an unusually pg-13 method of conflict resolution for any conflict encountered in the manwombverse, but his penis could use a break.

"Hey!" Simba said. "Aren't you sick of the long lines at the DMV?"

"Who goes to the DMV anymore?" Jerry Deinfeld scoffed.

Simba saw the flaw in his logic. This was a man who became famous on jokes regular people found relatable. But how are you supposed to be relatable when you're the production cost of the Hannah Montanna movie away from being a billionaire? You'd only be able to relate to similarly wealthy people your in cars having coffee with, or bombing and blaming youth culture instead of making the realization.

Simba needed to relate to an almost-billionaire.

"Hey!" Simba said. "Don't you hate when the airport lets your private jet take off too quickly? You need that time to get settled, or you might spill your champagne!"

Jerry Seinfeld was about to let out a laugh, his face and body contorting to accommodate it to an extreme thst would make Nicolas Cage go 'Jesus!', but before he could let out a laugh, Jerry Seinfeld burst into confetti.

The chair remained empty as long as Simba looked at it. He looked away, and turned back.

The corpse of George Carlin was plonked onto the chair, though it had been improperly balanced. In a few seconds it lurched forward, smashing its face against the table with a moist _crack_.

"The FUCK" Simba yelled into the void "am I supposed to make a corpse laugh?!"

Suddenly all the lights turned on, revealing dozens of tables, all of which had a comedian sitting at them, except for the table of Amy Schumer, since she was on the floor beside it, still laughing at her vagina joke.

"You must make us all cum through laughter!" All the comedians except Amy Schumer declared in disorienting unison. "AT THE SAME TIME!"

Simba suddenly felt himself standing at a podium, facing the unblinking stares of dozens of comedians.

He needed to think. What was the most common joke a comedian could rely on for a laugh.

"HEY!" He yelled to gt everyone's attention. "How about them dumbass youth, huh? Isn't Snapchat stupid?! FORTNITE!"

(For full effect, start playing 'rectifier' from the Tron Legacy soundtrack here)

What started as a few weak chuckles and noncommittal chortles escalated into full laughter, and escalating still to the point that Simba would have sworn they were all being sarcastic if their laughs weren't prying their jaws open far wider that the human body should permit. Simba's suspicions were confirmed as the erotic twangs of jaw tendons snapping echoed through the Ikea, As they laughed, their lips tugged farther apart, parting their skin from their lips and revealing their sensuously smooth muscle tissues underneath. Still laughing, their skin-stripped bodies began to morph, boiling and melting so to lost their natural definition, bulbous meaty sacs, blazed in blood and teeth, took over, rolling from their tables and collecting in single growing, still laughing pile.

Still laughing, the bulbous masses shuddered and sputtered, gaining definition.

If you have never seen Berserk, and thus have no idea what a behelit is, imagine someone tried to make a Mr Potato Head as wrong as possible. Now imagine the facial featues were realistic, as if it were designed to be an character in The Annoying Orange with epilepsy. Now imagine hundreds of those laughing as one, stuck together using a mixture of corn syrup and crushed tomatoes.

Amy Schumer, stil laughing maniacally, seemed to have kept her form, but was still fused to the pile at… the point between her legs.

This was her vagina.

(You can stop playing the music now)

Simba was so fucking aroused. His penis glistened at ninety-eight percent of its full potential. Simba knew what he must do. He must penetrate that glistening, erotic, amorphous mass.

He leapt at Amy Schumer's Vagina, brandishing his penis. "Have at the!"

One set of Behelit Lips took his benis first, shuddering as it took the full length, failing to contain the power and bursting, resembling a raw chicken stuffed with live grenades and ketchup. Simba moved on the the next one. This one took it in the eye and burst immediately.

Two of the fleshy masses merged at the eyes and mouthes, forming a gap that could easily engulf Simba's substantial wife-bleater. He couldn't fuck this one to death. This was it.

"Fight my brothers!" Someone yelled. "Fight for father!"

All of Simba's Liono children, now fully grown, penetrated the perimeter of the Ikea, thrusting themselves into the frey, penises brandished, they joined Simba in attacking Amy Schumer's vagina. They were doing pretty well until they were torn apart. Bony tentacles protruded from Amy Schumer's vagina like ingrown hairsthat had grown too big to be contained, wrapping themselves around the liono babies and either tearing them apart, or killing them by performing endo-anal tonsillectomies.

One particularly imaginative tentacle tore out one Liono's entrails and swung them around like the baby in Freddy Got Fingered. Little did Amy Schumer's Vagina know that that would be it's undoing. As the twirling Liono's head tore away from it's body, it's trajectory put it on an intercept path with the half engorged Simba.

To say that Simba's penis reached a hundred percent power when liono's severed head crashed into his prostate would not do simba's penis Justice. His penis went Super Sayian. Growing a six pack that you could grind meat on, the forceful aura of Simba's penis alone blasted half of amy schumer's vagina to paste, making the room look like the inside of a jelly donut. With a few forceful, aimless thrusts, Simba's penis did to Amy Schumer's vagina what a hijacked jet did to a WTC window Cleaner, exploded the entire half of both the Ikea and Hank Hill's Urethrea, and turned into the plot convenient light pointing to the sky that in a 2010s comic book movie would have been the climax setpiece, but in Tron-land was what you needed to jump into to go back. Jumping into his penis, Simba finally escaped the grid.

"What the fu-" The MCP managed to say before getting pulverized by Simba's Super-Sayian Donk.

"It's done." Simba said, powering down his dick, and taking his tacquitos, ignoring the confused protestations of the store owner.

He was wondering if the Baby From Eraserhead was still in his apartment when he went up to his apartment. Not only was they still there, but they called over Mister Ed.

"Oh Hell the clop yes." Simba grinned fiendishly.

THE END

Tune in next time for 69 Hues of Canada: John A Macdonald and Pocahontas Experiment with Autoerotic Cultural Assimilation!

Remember to receive all the juicy Manwombverse updates on Twitter at BusterManwomb!

Orphan bone decoys

Orphan tacquitos

Its only cannibalism if the balls touch.


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